The Last Great American
by Nyna Boscorelli
Summary: This is a song fic about Bobby. R/R please.
1. The Story

Title: The Last Great American

Author: Nyna Boscorelli

E-mail: nynaboscorelli@hotmail.com

Disclaimer: Yep, that's right.  I still don't own any of them.  Or the song.  That belongs to Five for Fighting.

Author's Note: I'm just rolling out the song fics lately.  LoL.  Anyway, this is based around the Five for Fighting song of the same name.  It's a Bobby fic.  Why did they have to get rid of Bobby?  *cries*  I can't wait to see who gets killed of in the season finale.  Hopefully Cruz. :) I've also updated my first story "Old Friend, New Beginnings" and posted another song fic called "Façade."  So, check them out!  By the way, there's a bonus attached to this story, too.  If you can tell me who's point of view this is from, I will name a character in a future story after you.  E-mail your answers to me.  Anyway, on with the story.  R/R please.

The Last Great American 

From every walk of life we've come to see the last great American.

Two years.  It's been only two years.  It feels like twenty.  I still can't believe he's gone.  I walk into the firehouse everyday for work and can't help but feel the emptiness.  We weren't the best of friends or anything.  But he had been at Camelot my first day there.  Of course he joined in when the guys ragged on me.  But underneath, I could tell that he had a good heart.  I must admit that I was jealous of what he and Kim had.  I wanted that.  

I looked down at my hands as the ceremony began, "Dearly beloved, we are here today to memorialize Roberto Caffey.  Let us now bow our heads…"

Mr. Merry cries in his coffin for days he says he can remember.

Kim got up and spoke about her time spent on the job with him.  Half way through, she broke down into sobs and I rushed forward to catch her as she fell to her knees.  As I helped her back to her seat, she clung to me as she never had before.  I attempted a half-hearted smile as we passed Lieu, who was on his way to the podium to speak.

"He was a great paramedic.  He helped any patient that he came in contact with.  He knew how to make any person feel comfortable in telling him what was wrong, where they were hurt…"

Friends, he was a man of men; a man of gold.  He had a, how do you say ethical-like sense.

My turn to speak came too soon.  I wasn't ready to get up there and talk about him.  It would make it too real.  It was too easy now to pretend that he had moved away somewhere.  But once I start saying a eulogy, it's going to be real.

"Roberto Caffey is someone that I miss everyday.  Camelot is not the same without him.  He had a dynamic personality, but he never forced it on anybody.  He was quiet so often that sometimes people ignored him," I began.  "Lieu talked about how he was as a paramedic.  He was a great paramedic, sure.  But above all, he was a great person.  He never thought twice about helping out anyone who needed it.  No favor was too big to ask him for help with.  Bobby knew no prejudices.  I remember Kim telling me the story of a little boy that he helped one time.  This little boy was homeless and parentless.  Bobby saw him walking along the street and took him to Mercy.  But he didn't leave the boy's side after putting him in the care of the nurses.  He stayed and made sure that Child Services took proper care of him.  He could have easily just turned away from the boy.  But he took the time to care.  If more people were like Bobby, this world would be a much better place.  But no one else could ever be like Bobby.  He was one in a million.  And I don't-"

It was my turn to dissolve into tears.  Kim stepped up to the podium and helped me back to where we were sitting.  The two of us leaned on each other for support.

This man with a heart so spent that in this day and age is sick of living.

We all stood on the banks of the river, holding in our hands white rose petals.  As the bagpipes played, we threw the petals in the water.  Then we all turned and walked away, heading back to Camelot.  It didn't matter anymore who was to blame for it.  He was really gone.  And he was never coming back.

The last great American.

The End


	2. After Note

Title: The Last Great American

Author: Nyna Boscorelli

E-mail: nynaboscorelli@hotmail.com

Disclaimer: Don't own 'em

Hey Guys!

When I posted this story, I added in my author's note that whoever could tell me whose point of view this story was from would get a character in an upcoming story.  Well, the answer is….*drumroll*  Jimmy.  Yup...this story is from Jimmy's point of view.  

Thanks for the reviews and thanks for sending a guess, Jazz!

Smiles

Nyna B


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